


Want

by AvecPlaisir



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvecPlaisir/pseuds/AvecPlaisir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnie doesn't know what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> Bonnalise, because they have such a delicious dynamic. Non-specific time.

“I want what you want,” Bonnie said slowly. “Whatever you want me to want.”

They were in Annalise’s office, as they so often were. In Annalise’s house, to which Bonnie’s presence had become a constancy. Annalise had never asked her to stay. Bonnie had never made the decision either. But day bled into night very quickly when you were as dedicated as Bonnie was. Not intentional, especially not at first, but unfaltering, night after night, week after week. They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t need to. And, one night, Annalise--without her armor, dressed only in a robe and headscarf--had brought her a cup of cocoa. Set it on her desk with a quiet ‘good night’.

After that, Bonnie didn’t even think about it.

“And what if I told you I didn’t want you to want what I wanted?” Annalise said.

(It was night now too.) 

Bonnie hesitated.

(Annalise was dressed in a robe, now, too. But they were talking.)

“What if,” Annalise clarified, eyes hard and unreadable, “I told you that I wanted you to want something that had nothing to do with me at all?”

It was a trick question, Bonnie was sure. A logical contradiction. Bonnie wanted what Annalise wanted her to want, but if Annalise wanted her to not want what Annalise wanted, then Bonnie would want to find some other way of wanting, but.... wouldn’t that still be wanting what Annalise wanted her to want? But if she disregarded Annalise’s wishes and did what _she_ wanted that would still lead down the road of wanting whatever Annalise wanted her to want, which, in this case, would be to _not_ want what Annalise wanted, which would still be, paradoxically, what Annalise wanted.

The answer was, in short, that Bonnie would continue to base all of her desires off of Annalise or she wouldn’t, but either way she would be a failure.

Which, really, was nothing new.

Bonnie’s head hurt. She struggled to find a different answer, one that didn’t make her dizzy. One that would sit easier in her stomach. One that she could crawl up beside in bed and fall asleep next to. At the very least she wanted to find an answer that would please Annalise. The problem was that she didn’t think there was one.

“I don’t know,” Bonnie said, finally.

And this, too, was the wrong answer.

“You don’t _know_ ,” Annalise repeated, flatly. She set her empty-save-for-two-ice-cubes glass down on the table and folded silk clad arms over her chest. “You have _no_ idea?”

Bonnie had ideas, of course she had ideas. She was tormented by ideas, perpetually, but all of them were hazy and indistinct, even if some seemed brighter than the others, more real, more present, nothing was ever clear. Clarity was a luxury Bonnie had lost long ago, and she had learned to steer though tumultuous waves, learned to choose paths and claw her way down them, but nothing was ever certain, nothing was ever sure, nothing was ever _right_ \--

Well. With exactly one exception.

Bonnie looked down.

“I’m sorry—” she started.

“Don’t apologize,” Annalise grunted, cutting her off. She sounded nothing short of utterly disgusted. “I’m tired of your apologies.”

Bonnie struggled not to be hurt. She searched. Found a thread that didn’t come loose when she tugged and it was true enough to count. Truer than she could have hoped to find on such short notice.

“I want you to trust me,” Bonnie tried.

“You don’t know what you want, and you expect me to trust you?”

Except it wasn’t a question.

“I don’t _expect_ you to trust me, I _want_ you to trust me,” Bonnie said, and she almost sounded petulant. Like a child, even to herself. She fixed her tone, tried again.

“You asked me what I wanted.”

“What you want that doesn’t involve _me."_

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because--because I don’t _know_ —”

“So we’re back where we started—!”

Bonnie almost couldn’t hear over the rushing in her ears. She shouted.

 “You’re what I want!”

And into the silence following:

“The only thing that I’m ever certain about,” she said—and, god, why did those piercing brown eyes never fail to turn her into a submissive, helpless little girl?—“is you.”

Annalise considered her.

Several moments passed. Bonnie shifted, unable to quite make eye contact as Annalise continued to study her silently. She wondered if Annalise was going to fire her again. She would go, of course, but she didn’t know what she would do with herself afterwards.

“You want what I want,” Annalise said, eventually, tone as ambiguous as her expression.

Bonnie looked up. She nodded cautiously.

“I know that’s not what you want to hear—”

Annalise cut her off.

“And what if I told you I wanted to kiss you, slow and steady,” Annalise asked, eyes swinging between each of Bonnie’s as she stepped closer. “Until that lipstick you like to wear so much is smeared off and traces of it leave a red trail of clues to exactly where my mouth has been.”

Bonnie forgot to breathe.

“Would you want that too?” Annalise finished her question with another step forward.

Bonnie swallowed.

“Yes.”

Another step closer, and Annalise had literally backed her into a wall.

“And what if I told you I wanted to sit you on my desk, hike up that pretty little skirt and slip my fingers into your sweet cunt. You would want that, too?”

Bonnie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Or,” another step closer and Bonnie had nowhere to go, “that I wanted to kneel between your spread legs,” a hand on either thigh, slipping under the edge of her skirt, pushing it up, “and taste you myself.”

Bonnie’s eyes were closed. She was trembling.

“You would want that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bonnie choked.

Annalise chuckled. The moment passed.

“And if I told you I never wanted to do anything like that with you,” Annalise continued, “you would be fine with that?”

Bonnie’s eyes flew open.

Annalise was still just there, just in front of her. Bonnie could have counted the number of eyelashes framing each eye. Below, Annalise’s hands rested on her ass and inner thigh. Bonnie could feel that her skirt was a crinkled strip around her hips but she didn’t look down to see. She didn’t dare break eye contact; didn’t dare, didn’t want to.

“Of course,” Bonnie said, but she had waited too long.

Annalise slipped two fingers inside her and brought them out again glistening. She held them up for Bonnie to see.

“I think you’re lying,” Annalise said.

And she pressed those fingers to Bonnie’s mouth. Bonnie opened immediately. Annalise allowed her to suck them for a moment, before pulling away. They fell, slick with spit, from Bonnie’s warm mouth.

Bonnie stood still as Annailse wiped her fingers on Bonnie's skirt.

"Now," muttered Annalise," I just need to figure out if it's because I'm your boss, or because you think I saved you."  

_...It?_

Annalise started to walk back to her desk, then paused, glancing at Bonnie over her shoulder.

"It's both, right?" she said. "It's probably both."

Bonnie stared, eyebrows coming down. Her head hurt again.

She didn't know what to make of what had just happened, but Annalise seemed to have already made a decision about something, and that decision left Bonnie by the wall with her skirt hiked up around her waist.

Did she want Annalise in _that_ way--sexually--? Mustn't that be the case? She had been, after all, more than willing to let Annalise finger fuck her right then and there, would have let Annalise bend her over the desk, would even, she suspected in some dark corner of her mind, let Annalise fuck her in front of the students and Frank and everyone--Asher--but that didn't mean that was what she _wanted--_

Did it?

Bonnie didn't know. Not because these thoughts had never crossed her mind, but because it wasn't _important_. Sex was just sex, after all, nothing to spend time worrying about. Bonnie had had sex with plenty of people, but none of those people made her feel like Annalise made her feel. What was important, what Bonnie knew with absolute certainty, was that--

“I would do anything for you,” Bonnie said.

She meant it with every fiber of her being, tried to seep the meaning out of her pores and have them creep into Annalise's subconscious because she thought she was being clear. She thought she'd always been clear about that, but for some reason Annalise didn't _get it_.

Or, murmured a lurking thought that made Bonnie's stomach twist, maybe she did get it. Maybe the problem was that it wasn't _enough_.

Annalise gave a deep sigh.

“I know,” she said, and she sounded a thousand years old. "But that's why I can't trust you."


End file.
